


Explicit Trust

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Series: Getting To Know You [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, Knifeplay, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safer Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Here," Ashe says, barely more than a breath. Louder, he adds, "Take it, Red. You can do whatever you want."</i> Written for kink_bingo's gift basket challenge, "We Have Ways Of Making You Talk", guns/blades square.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Explicit Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ingenius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenius/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tale of a Modern Thief](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/22260) by ingenius. 



> This is an original fic remix/fanfic for the one-shot fic above. This series covers from the time of their first fuck to the last time they have sex in the original fic, so you don't need to read the fic to understand it but I (of course) suggest that you do, as it'll help you get more out of this series.

Four months into this dating thing between Frederick and Ashe, they've gotten to the point where they have dinner whether or not there's explicit plans for sex afterward. Frederick doesn't practically live at Ashe's, and Ashe doesn't practically live at Frederick's, but they spend the majority of the weekends--the weekends they're not working--together. 

Some weeknights, too, which is what tonight is: a lazy Tuesday night dinner that they had delivered and are bullshitting their way through. Frederick takes special notice of the way Ashe is sprawled over most of Frederick's loveseat, the languid grace he so enjoys. It's not the only thing there, though; tonight there's also tension Ashe's expression. 

There's something about the way his brows furrow--he really does need a haircut; Frederick can barely see them--and the frown that pulls at the corners of his mouth every so often when the conversation tapers off.... 

It makes Frederick want to cup Ashe's face in his hands and kiss him over and over and make him confess whatever it is that's making him look like that. Or just fuck him until he forgets about it entirely. The second option is the one Ashe will want, he knows, but it's not the one Frederick wants. 

He doesn't say anything, though. Just notes it and nudges Ashe's foot with his. Their toes are the only parts of their bodies that touch, with the way they're sitting on different couches, and Ashe grins briefly and says, "So, wanna see how many times you can make me almost come before I start begging?" 

Frederick blinks, slow, feeling the heat unwind and suffuse into his chest, his limbs. He doesn't need to answer, so he drags his big toe from Ashe's heel up to the ball of his foot, then back down, toenail scraping Ashe's instep. 

Ashe shivers, his fork rattling on the ceramic dish, mouth opening slightly. "Red--" 

"I'm going to put up the food. You're going to go to the bedroom and _wait_." 

"Yeah," Ashe agrees, puts down his half-empty bowl, and walks slowly but steadily toward the bedroom, grabbing his gym bag full of supplies on the way. It's one of the signals Ashe has, when he wants something a little kinkier than a straight-up fuck. 

So of course Frederick's mind races with possibilities as he puts up the food. It's a mechanical activity; he doesn't have to think to empty the bowls into the plastic takeout containers, doesn't have to apply any skills. 

They did that electricity thing, maybe Ashe got his own tool? He _did_ like it a lot, after all. He didn't let Frederick burn him last time; maybe he wants a burn now. But--no, he hasn't really been acting different, excepting the tension tonight. It's probably not that, no matter how much Frederick hopes. 

Because he wants to leave burns on Ashe's skin. He wants to leave his mark, so anyone who sees it will know Ashe has been claimed, and Ashe will never forget who he belongs with. (Or, if they ever do break up: so Ashe will never forget Frederick.)

He's entertaining a fantasy despite himself by the time he heads to the bedroom, one where he burns a F into Ashe's left ass cheek, the one with the little mole on it. To the left of the mole, like the mole's a period. F. 

It would be fucking perfect, but he knows better than to expect it. He expects only Ashe, probably naked and hard, and he gets that: Ashe, naked and hard, sitting cross-legged on the bed with something in his hands that catches the light. He looks up as Frederick enters, his eyes wider than normal but not too wide, like Frederick caught him before he was ready. 

Frederick realizes that is exactly what happened when Ashe takes a deep breath and his eyes close momentarily. And then he smiles like a lightbulb going on and Frederick's heart clenches, skips a few beats, and his breath gets a little shaky for a moment. It passes, though, and he walks over to the bed, looking down at Ashe. 

Who looks up at Frederick steadily, not even blinking, and holds up what he had in his hands. Frederick manages to drag his eyes away from Ashe's face to see that it's a knife, solid steel with a beveled handle but no real grip, all one piece of metal. Decorative, but it looks sharp, and Ashe handles it like it's sharp.

"Here," Ashe says, barely more than a breath. Louder, he adds, "Take it, Red. You can do whatever you want." 

For long moments, Frederick can't breathe. He takes the knife by the handle, but he doesn't really see the knife. He just sees Ashe, and the way his hands go down to rest loosely in his lap, the slight flush in his cheeks. Gorgeous, he's always gorgeous, pretty but with balls, handsome as a twink but with all the things that make him Ashe. 

Wordlessly, Frederick leans over to put the knife on the nightstand and then cups Ashe's face in both his hands, crawling onto the bed, crawling onto Ashe's lap, straddling him and looking and looking. Unshed tears shine in Ashe's eyes; Ashe's adam's apple bobs as he swallows; he leans his face into Frederick's right hand, not looking away, not blinking. "Okay?" 

"You have to ask?" Frederick murmurs, and kisses Ashe. Intimate, lips lingering on lips for long moments before Ashe opens up the kiss, lets Frederick's tongue slide in and meets it, and they tangle together. And break apart, and tangle together, and when Frederick manages to stop kissing he's leaning his forehead against Ashe's, panting hard through his nose, his hands almost shaking as he rubs them up and down the outsides of Ashe's arms. 

It takes long, long minutes of nothing but panting and rubbing and feeling Ashe under him, solid and present, before Frederick can catch his breath. Before he can make himself get past the shock of this amazing trust that Ashe is showing, this amazing _uncharacteristic_ trust. 

"What prompted this?" Frederick asks. He has to, since he has to know if he's not going to fuck this up. If he doesn't understand, he runs the risk of ruining the entire thing unintentionally. 

Ashe shrugs, and smiles again. "I trust you. I realized that, is all. And it sounded like fun, knifeplay, you know? Cutting, too." 

Frederick grins. "Reading fiction on the net again?" 

That blush is answer enough, but Ashe adds, "Yeah." 

Fiction on the net has made Frederick's life more and more interesting, since Ashe told Frederick about it, and he's not about to start complaining. Instead he kisses Ashe again, wrapping one arm around Ashe's shoulders, the other hand sliding into Ashe's hair to grip and pull lightly, just as Ashe does the same for Frederick. 

They groan in unison, Frederick louder than Ashe, and Ashe wiggles his entire body under Frederick. "So. Gonna try it?" 

Cutting is one thing that requires supplies if he's going to be sure he prevents infection, so he has two options. Fuck Ashe now and don't cut him, or take twenty minutes and get out all the stuff he needs and set up the area and all, then fuck Ashe, and maybe mark him a little. (Though his skin heals pretty fast and clean; it'll probably take a lot to actually _mark_ Ashe permanently with a sharp-edged knife.) 

Ashe wiggles again, his cock pressing against Frederick's ass for a wonderful moment and then there's this expression on his face, the begging without words expression. Puppy eyes. 

"Stay right there," Frederick says, and crawls off of Ashe. 

It doesn't end up taking the entire twenty minutes for Frederick to get out all of the supplies, set them up within easy reach, and cover the bed with a cheap plastic drop cloth, but sixteen is close enough to twenty for Frederick. Not that he wants to spend the time doing it, but he does, and anyway Ashe looks cute as fuck when he lays down on his stomach and puts his face on his hands, elbows on the bed, legs idly kicking the air. Only it's not girly when Ashe does it; the kicks are all impatience and his expression is eagerness mixed with need.

"That look makes me want to do things," Frederick tells him as he sits back down. He tangles his fingers in Ashe's hair, pulls Ashe's head back, and presses his lips against Ashe's. It's not a nice kiss, and Ashe responds beautifully. Groans, leaning into the kiss, letting Frederick fuck Ashe's mouth with his tongue. 

"Nice," Frederick breathes when he breaks the kiss; Ashe just pants, eyes closed, face still tipped back. Gorgeous. "Roll over." 

"Yeah," Ashe says, his voice slightly shaky, and obeys as soon as Frederick lets go of his hair. 

All spread out like this, naked, cock standing at attention and so much want in his face, Frederick feels like he could do anything to Ashe and get away with it. Fist him--they've done that, and Ashe loved it. Fuck him. Tease him until Ashe is swearing and begging and cursing every minute that Frederick doesn't do what Ashe wants him to do. 

The last option always sounds like the most fun, so Frederick leans down and kisses the head of Ashe's cock. Gently. He knows his stubble must scrape it a little, and knows Ashe will get off on that, too. As it is he makes a sound like a dying animal; Frederick almost always starts teasing out that way if Ashe is naked just to get that sound out of Ashe. 

Frederick chuckles, presses more kisses down the length of Ashe's cock, pushes his legs apart, and continues to press kisses to Ashe's balls, his thighs. He adds in a few swipes of his tongue and earns a whimper louder than the rest from Ashe, as well as Ashe's fingers in Frederick's hair twisting and pulling. 

Probably involuntarily, if Frederick had to guess. Ashe wouldn't want to reward Frederick like that for torture. 

Frederick continues on for thirty-two minutes, by which time Ashe lays panting, his hands clenched together above his head--he started pulling a little too much, disrupting Frederick's teasing--and his entire body trembling finely. He always looks so... just so amazing like this, stretched out, needing Frederick to finish him. 

"You're so well-behaved," Frederick says, and nuzzles his face against Ashe. 

"Fucking bastard," Ashe says softly, voice trembling as finely as his body. "I fucking hate you and your goddamned teasing and you need to just--just fucking finish me you fucking _bastard_."

"So I should finish you?" Frederick asks, enjoying this exactly as much as he should. "No cutting? No marking?" 

Ashe actually shakes, knees rising and coming together, turning his face to the side and as he pants harshly a few times before he grinds out, "I fucking--I--you-- _bastard_." 

"You have to give me a coherent answer." Frederick brushes the callouses on his hands across Ashe's nipples, one and then the other and then back to the first to begin again. 

There's so much sensitization from all the teasing that Ashe moans at that touch, and his cock leaks precome down the string of stickiness that connects his cock to the area just above his pubes. There's some in his pubic hair, too, clear and glistening against the dirty blond. He's sweating, too, no doubt thanks to the plastic drop cloth, droplets streaming down his too-flat stomach. Frederick's mouth waters a bit, and he takes pity on Ashe and stops teasing his nipples, putting his hand on the bed instead. 

"Ffffucking _hell_ , Red." He gasps in a few deep breaths, putting his head back as he does, eyes closed. 

Frederick just lets him sit there and recover a little, leaning to the side, to the knife on the nightstand and picking it up. Bonus: Ashe is so busy trying not to pay attention to anything that when Frederick lays the flat of the blade lightly against Ashe's hip, Ashe jerks away from it and gasps sharply. 

He lifts his head, and a slow smile spreads over his face as soon as he sees the blade. After that he just puts his head back again, smoothing his hands through his hair and lacing them behind his head. "Sorry, it was just a shock. Too cold." 

"I know," Frederick says, looking down at the blade. It's all one piece; there's no way he couldn't know. "Going to stay still? I don't want _accidental_ cuts." Ashe is normally pretty good about holding still, when Frederick tells him to. 

Ashe nods. "Oh yeah. Sorry, I'm still--from the teasing, you know--and it really was cold but I am so fucking ready to bleed for you, Red, you have no idea." 

Hearing Ashe say that is like.... Frederick's head spins for a moment at the power that Ashe is giving him, the trust, but he's stronger than that, even if he does have to lean down and kiss right where he rested the knife, chaste and then scraping his teeth over Ashe's hipbone. 

"Please," Ashe says, and one of his hands cups Frederick's cheek and then his chin. He's lifting his head again, brows furrowed. "I--I want..." 

"Shh," Frederick says, and kisses Ashe's thumb. Kisses his palm, too, and the inside of his wrist. "Just hold still, is all." 

Ashe's fingers tremble a little--excitement, Frederick thinks, not fear; there's not a damn bit of fear in Ashe's eyes--and he swallows. "Right. Good things to guys who wait." 

"Yes," Frederick says absently, all his attention on smoothing the knife from Ashe's navel down to his pubic hair. 

He doesn't lay it flat this time, at an angle instead, but not pressing down. There's no cut, but there is precome covering the tip of the knife when Frederick pulls it away. He puts it in his mouth--he's never had any fear of knives in his mouth, or at least not when he's holding them--and the taste of Ashe's precome mixed with steel makes his breath catch and his heart beat faster. 

This time Frederick smoothes the knife down Ashe's stomach from further up, about halfway up his abs. Like shaving, only the wrong direction. He goes lower, too, paying careful attention to the way that Ashe doesn't even fucking breathe as he smoothes the knife up the underside of Ashe's cock. Frederick holds Ashe's cock still with his other hand; he knows quite a bit about involuntary cock twitches, and feels Ashe's cock twitch in his grip, twice, before he gets to the top and the knife is smeared with precome once more. 

"Open up," Frederick murmurs, shifting onto his knees, cupping one hand around Ashe's face. If Ashe moves at all, it'll be really fucking likely he'll get sliced somewhere.

Ashe does what he's told, of course, closing his mouth around the knife and humming happily as Frederick pulls it backward from between his lips, pulling back toward the dull side of the blade. The last thing he wants is to do any unintentional cutting. He means what he said. 

"Red," Ashe breathes, as Frederick moves back down to settle between his hips, kneeling but sitting back on his heels. "Red. Red." 

"Right here," Frederick says softly, and presses a kiss to the base of Ashe's cock. He wants to bury his face there, mouth it, scrape his teeth, reduce Ashe to incoherence again. Or further, make him into that sharper Ashe, the one who begs in gasping, biting words and glares and demands things. 

But the knife is surprisingly solid in his hand, for something so flat, and he isn't willing to stop now that he's started. "Shhh, Ashe. Just breathe." 

He does, of course, but his breath is loud and his thigh trembles a bit under Frederick's touch. 

"That's good, Ashe." Frederick kisses the crease of Ashe's inner thigh and hip, his balls. "Just stay still and breathe."

"Yes," Ashe says, in this little voice, and his hand finds its way to Frederick's hair, fingers tangling easily and pulling. It felt like a piece sliding into place and made Frederick close his eyes for a moment, sighing at the comfort and familiarity of it. 

Suddenly, he wants to rim Ashe. Something else comfortable and familiar. Frederick wants to make Ashe make that noise that he only ever makes when Frederick's tongue is in his ass. And he wants to get the knife in on it. "Roll over?"

Ashe makes a mournful noise as he untangles his hand from Frederick's hair, and when he sits up the plastic drop cloth goes with him. They both burst out into laughter, and Frederick moves around to the other side of the bed to hold it in place as Ashe repositions himself. It's good to see Ashe grinning, good to see that mix of arousal and happiness on his face. 

And the reward of Ashe's shoulders on the bed and his fantastic ass perked up like that is--well, it makes the laughter worth it. Frederick positions himself behind Ashe and runs two fingers from Ashe's ass, up his spine to his neck, and back down again. The way is made slippery by sweat, and Frederick pops his fingers in his mouth happily in the aftermath. 

While he was up, he grabbed lubricant, and now he puts it in his pocket to warm it and leans forward to lick a wet circle around Ashe's hole. Ashe clenches, probably without meaning to, and Frederick just takes that as invitation to press his tongue inside. 

"Ah," Ashe says, and gives that little noise, like a squeak and a moan combined, but nothing like his usual whimper. 

Sometimes Frederick wonders if Ashe even realizes that he makes the sound, but is pretty sure that Ashe doesn't, or he'd make it into a reward, the way he does with fucking blow jobs. 

With that thought in mind, Frederick pulls away and presses the flat of the blade to one side of Ashe's ass, then the other, the side with the mole. He lets it rest against that side longer, and then runs the point gently from his spine to his hole, not letting there be any pressure but the weight of the knife itself--light, not as a feather but no heavier than a fountain pen.

Ashe holds perfectly still, and Frederick looks at his hands as he pulls the knife away, just in time to see his fingers unclench from the plastic. If he isn't careful, Ashe is going to put holes in the damn thing. Not that that would be bad, just... annoying. 

"Don't make any holes in the sheet," he says, and bites the side of Ashe's ass that doesn't have the mole. He lets the flat of the blade rest against the curve of Ashe's ass, not quite in the crack but not far off from it either.

The labored breathing from Ashe cuts off until Frederick pulls the knife away again, at which point he whimpers. Helplessly, maybe? Brokenly, a little. 

Frederick decides to tell Ashe the plan. "I'm going to cut you. I'm going to run the knife up and down your back and if it makes cuts, it does, but I'm also going to cut an F into your ass. Right here." He rests the flat of the blade against Ashe's mole. "But first I'm going to rim you until you're shaking." 

"Please," Ashe begs, his voice high and breathy. Just fucking right. 

For a reward, Frederick bites his ass again, closer to his hole this time, and runs his tongue around that hole a few times. After that it's up and down the crack, flicking his tongue against Ashe's hole and feeling the way Ashe jumps, feeling every little movement, right down to the tension in his thighs. "Shhh." Frederick licks again, thrusts his tongue inside of Ashe, and loses himself in doing one of his favorite things in the world. 

He does exactly what he promised. By the time he stops, Ashe is shaking, moaning brokenly and begging mindlessly, just _please_ over and over, sometimes frustrated, sometimes pleading, sometimes just saying it like a mantra. Always perfect, always exactly what Frederick wants. 

The part that Frederick didn't tell Ashe about is that he wants to have his cock in Ashe's ass when he does the cutting. He wants to feel Ashe's reactions, wants to--fuck, everything, that's a good summary. Everything, he wants to _everything_ Ashe until Ashe comes like a fucking freight train. 

Frederick puts the knife way to the side and pulls off his clothes, retrieving the lubricant from the pocket and a condom from the nightstand. He shucks off his jeans and rolls the condom on with ease of long practice, and then he slides two fingers into Ashe with the same ease, delighted to earn that moan, that jerk of Ashe's shoulders. 

Plus Ashe burying his face in the plastic for long moments and then raising his head when he can't breathe, panting far more heavily than he should be.

"Shh," Frederick says, as he pulls his fingers out and takes a moment to find the lubricant and slick his cock up. The way Ashe looks makes him hurry, but when he gives his cock a pull and it's nowhere near slick enough he forces himself to slow down, forces himself to make sure he's not going to be hurting Ashe with his enthusiasm. Then he captures Ashe's hips, pulling the cheeks of Ashe's ass apart with his thumbs and lining up the head of his cock before pushing inside. 

No matter how many times he does this, Frederick swears it gets better every time. Every time he gets to fuck Ashe's ass, it's better, and he can't tell why but--

That's a lie, though, because he can tell why, he just can't tell anyone, most especially Ashe, so he keeps it buried inside of him and when he buries himself in Ashe it's like he can't hold it in anymore. 

Frederick leans over Ashe, wrapping his arms around Ashe's chest, burying his face in Ashe's hair and breathing deeply. Ashe always smells so fucking good. Even after work, he smells amazing. It defies science but Frederick's never given much of a shit about science so he'll believe it, believe in the way that scent gets up inside of him and makes him abandon his plan for long moments, just holding Ashe and fucking him slowly, breathing in more of his scent with every stroke. 

He puts one hand on the bed to steady himself, and the knife slides across the plastic and into the indent Frederick creates with his hand. He's reminded of what he's supposed to be doing, what he promised. Frederick keeps his promises; he never promises impossible things. 

"Fuck, Ashe," Frederick whispers into Ashe's neck, bites him, and picks up the knife. Up and down either side of the spine, right. He makes a conscious effort not to move his bottom half as he straightens up, but just because Frederick's not moving doesn't mean Ashe is doing the same. He rocks back against Frederick's cock desperately. Frederick's breathless for long moments at the sight, at the idea, and files it away for future use. 

For the moment he grabs Ashe's hips, hissing, "Stop, stop, hold _still_." The first two words do nothing; the second two make Ashe sob in a breath and follow the command. His hips stutter to a stop and he looks over his shoulder at Frederick with an expression that's so... 

"Good Ashe," Frederick tells him, smoothing a hand down his back and then up again. "Just try not to move, so the knife doesn't go too deep." He tests the edge of the knife on his thumb again, getting a good idea of how sharp it is--not razor, but it won't take a ton of pressure to cut Ashe, either--before he scrapes the edge down one side of Ashe's back. 

Frederick can see the effort it takes Ashe to not move, see it in the way Ashe's mouth falls open and no sound comes out, his eyes squeeze shut, and he grips the plastic sheet. It's beautiful, and amazing to know Ashe is putting in that effort for Frederick. Not for anybody else, just for Frederick. 

"You're doing so well," Frederick says, keeping his voice low as he brings the knife to a point for the journey back up Ashe's back. The pressure is right on the line of what'll cut, and as Frederick brings it up Ashe's back he finds himself filled with the physical need to taste the blood that wells from the few short cuts thanks to the contours in Ashe's body. 

Without making the conscious choice to do so, Frederick leans down and licks a wet stripe up all the cuts. Ashe groans louder at this than he did for the cuts, his body twisting under Frederick's tongue as he grinds out "Red, Red. Red." Not urgent, just a mantra. Keeping himself under what little control he can manage, at a guess. He's made Ashe lose control enough times that he recognizes Ashe on the edge of it.

"Good," Frederick whispers against Ashe's skin, kisses the very top cut, and straightens so he can run the knife down Ashe's back to his shoulder on the other side. He's careful not to make as many cuts this time, knowing well how he can really fucking hurt Ashe if he starts getting too enthusiastic. 

Ashe's hisses turn into groans by the time Frederick licks him again, and he twists, but only after the knife isn't pressed against his skin anymore. All the reactions are just--golden, amazing, Frederick wraps one arm around Ashe's chest and hugs him, liking the idea of Ashe's blood all over Frederick's skin. 

They're both clean, and it's been four months. They're not fucking anyone else. It's as safe as rubbing someone else's blood all over you can be, which is to say: Frederick feels safe enough that he doesn't give a fuck about safety. He just wants this level of closeness, of being intertwined with Ashe. He buries his face against the back of Ashe's neck and breathes in more Ashe-scent. Ashe-mixed-with-blood scent. 

Beneath him, Ashe settles his arm over Frederick's, laces their fingers together and squeezes Frederick's hand. "Fuck me?" he asks, his voice raw. 

Frederick kisses the back of Ashe's neck. "In a minute," he promises, and pulls away. The scent of blood is like the best kind of assault ever. He's had the mental image of what he's going to do there for long enough that once he pulls back, it's simplicity itself to cut the F. 

Ashe groans, tightening to a dizzying degree around Frederick's cock for a moment, and Frederick throws the knife at the wall. It has shitty balance and sticks badly, but it's far enough away that it's safe to pull back and slam into Ashe without worrying about slicing himself accidentally. On the floor, not here.

Here, with that desperate noise Ashe gives, or the way he pushes eagerly back against Frederick's cock, or just... fuck, all of it. It feels fantastic to fuck Ashe without limits, without needing to drag it out, to preserve this time they have together. Just fuck Ashe like he did that first time, wild, only there's blood now, and all these feelings, and every sound Ashe makes strokes that place at the base of Frederick's spine that makes him happy all over. Pleased. 

By the time Ashe comes, Frederick's barely hanging on, and he tumbles over the edge before Ashe is even through with his orgasm. It's fine; Ashe won't mind. Frederick is nice enough to not just collapse on top of Ashe the way he wants to, instead he wraps his arm around Ashe and lays on his side, spooned around Ashe. 

Ashe likes having Frederick's cock in him as long as possible, and feeling it soften and slip out of him. It's a deep intimacy that Frederick's never shared with another person, those moments when they're pressed together, panting, recovering, touching. Whispering. "Love your ass so much," Frederick mumbles, and kisses Ashe's shoulder. 

"Love your cock," Ashe murmurs, sounding almost sleepy. It's a standard response by now.

"Love your kinks," Frederick returns, hugging Ashe tightly for a moment. 

At the pressure against his cuts, Ashe gasps, and then melts back against Frederick. "Love how you just _know_ what to do." 

"Love how you react." Frederick sweeps one hand over Ashe's ass, over the F, and his hands come away sticky. He brings his fingers to Ashe's lips, and grins when Ashe licks experimentally. 

"Love how you're fucking fearless," Ashe whispers. 

Fuck, what is Frederick even supposed to say to that? That is the way this game works: they keep going until they hit something and someone can't think of a response. Tacit acknowledgement of Ashe's win comes at just the moment when Frederick's cock slips out of him, and they both sigh. 

"I kind of like the plastic sheet," Ashe says playfully, as he sits up. He winces as he twists back around to look at Frederick. 

Who can completely understand Ashe's feelings on the plastic. "Easy clean-up?" 

Ashe nods. "And no worrying about if there are clean sheets in the closet." 

That is a good point. Another good point, though, is that Ashe's cuts need cleaning and antiseptic, and it isn't like he can do them himself. Frederick drags himself up, kisses Ashe on the lips, and then sets to cleaning up. Another thing he is good at thanks to work, but never truly appreciated until Ashe.


End file.
